


Poe Dameron: Ace Pilot, Resistance Fighter, Pin-Up Boy

by FreshBrains



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Community: tfa_kink, Gay Male Character, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Kink Meme, M/M, Nude Photos, Objectification, POV Poe, Photography, Self Confidence, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 04:45:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5652919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreshBrains/pseuds/FreshBrains
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe clicks off the holopad. “It’s good PR.”</p>
<p>“Sure it is,” Snap says cheerfully. “And good for a pounding if that’s what you’re looking for.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poe Dameron: Ace Pilot, Resistance Fighter, Pin-Up Boy

**Author's Note:**

> For the DW tfa_kink prompt: [Poe is a stellar face of the Resistance: he's an ace pilot, comes from a family of rebels, and is an excellent leader. he also happens to be gorgeous and shameless in equal measure, so he's been an enthusiastic poster boy for recruitment campaigns and certain risqué rebel publications. give me some Poe being a slutty male model stripping for the Resistance, and maybe someone (Finn, lbr) finding some of his old centerfolds.](http://tfa-kink.dreamwidth.org/1082.html?thread=8506#cmt8506)
> 
> **Spoilers** for throughout the film.

Poe never really knows what to expect every time he gets back from the black. Some ops last longer than others, sure, but this _is_ the modern age, and news travels fast, no matter how long he’s gone.

He’s hardly out of his helmet with his feet on the ground when Pava is thrusting a holopad in his face, the image obscured by the flyaway tendrils of her long hair. “Commander, you won’t _believe_ that they just put up on _Resistance Daily_.”

The name of the popular data-mag sends a shiver of excitement up Poe’s spine. He knows exactly what Pava is talking about, though he’d hoped it would be held off until General Organa’s trip to the Uvass system. “Oh, they published it already? How’s my hair look?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Dameron,” Pava says, dropping all formality. “How the hell did you get called up for a profile and _I_ didn’t?” She runs a hand through her dark hair, pouting. “Everyone knows I’m the most interesting pilot on base.”

“Must be my natural charm,” Poe says, reaching for the holopad. “Let me see.” BB-8 rolls around his legs in figure-eights, wanting to share the fun. Poe brings up the beginning of the interview first. “Everyone knows about Poe Dameron, the handsome Resistance Commander of the Red and Blue Squadrons. But what they don’t know is that…” he pauses, brow furrowed. “He’s the most eligible bachelor in the star system?”

Pava bursts out laughing, grin stretching from ear to ear. “I take it back. I’m _glad_ they called you first.”

“I don’t remember telling them any of this,” he mutters, flicking through his “vital” statistics listed next to the interview, which include his height, eye color, birthdate, and—“Okay, I _definitely_ didn’t tell them my ideal date is ‘hitting Coruscant’s entertainment district.’ They never even asked me about that!”

“You _do_ like Coruscant,” Pava says. “And you haven’t seen the best part yet. Go to the next page.”

He does so, and is immediately staring at his own set of (admittedly fine) abdominal muscles, oiled to perfection and on display as he sprawls across a couch in the cantina where they conducted the shoot. His still in pants, though the top button is undone, and he’s looking at the camera like…

“You look like you want it _hard_ ,” Pava says, then frowns. “Commander.”

“Nice save,” Poe says, but isn’t offended. She’s right—on several counts. His eyes are hooded and he’s grazing his lips with his thumb, like he would if he was eyeing someone across a bar or in a skyway. It’s the look that gets him _fucked_. “I have to admit, I’m looking a little ready for it.”

“Try the next one,” Pava says, clicking the holopad.

“ _Oh_ ,” Poe says, eyes widening. Now _this_ one he has the decency to be a little embarrassed about. Now he’s on his stomach in a bed at some inn they carted him to with the photog and the media liaison, a sheet draped over his waist, face half-hidden behind a pillow. It leaves little to the imagination. “Is that _my_ ass?”

“Would appear so,” a voice says from behind him, and Snap smacks his ass before slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Man, Poe, you look like you’re up for anything. Have you gotten any calls yet?”

“I just got back to base,” Poe says, disgruntled. “And have you all forgotten I’m your superior? You know what, screw it. You’re just jealous.” He clicks off the holopad, much to BB-8’s dismay, who didn’t get to see it. “It’s good PR.”

“Sure it is,” Snap says cheerfully. “And good for a pounding if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Poe is pretty sure he shouldn’t be wrestling with his pilot in the hangar, but, well, he’s had a long morning, and Snap’s an asshole.

*

“Hey, handsome,” a low male voice says from down the sidewalk.

Poe looks up, the purple and blue lights from Coruscant’s clubs and bars creating long shadows as they walk. Pava and Snap pause next to him, laughter dying, ready to step in if there’s trouble. “Hey, yourself. Can I help you?”

A humanoid male steps out from beneath an awning. He’s _big_ , looking a little like one of the Jedi Masters Poe used to have a crush on from the history files when he was a kid, and his dark hair is tugged back in a braid. He’s got tattoos up and down both arms. “No harm. I just knew I recognized you.”

Poe smirks, arms folded over his chest. He’s feeling a little loose from too much spice beer and freer than normal in his civvies instead of his suit. “That’s odd. I’d definitely remember you.”

The man takes a step closer. His eyes are an alarming blue. “You’re the pilot from the Resistance.” He gives Poe an obvious once-over, not bothering to hide his intent. “I’ve seen your posters. Even Hoth knows that smile.” He licks his lips. “And that ass.”

“Oh, boy,” Pava says, slapping Poe on the back. “I’m out of here, flyboy.”

“Same,” Snap says, assisting Pava where she’s tottering on her high heels. “We’ll wait in the ship, okay?”

“Don’t bother,” Poe says, not breaking eye contact with the man. “I’ll catch a flight tomorrow.”

If he shows up for a briefing the following afternoon with rings of bites around his neck, and if he’s walking with a hitch in his step, and if he can still taste the man (who remained nameless throughout their encounter) in the back of his throat, that’s his business.

“Still just good PR?” Pava whispers next to him, and Poe pinches her in the side like they’re children until Lieutenant Connix gives them a withering glare from across the holotable.

*

Poe’s finding that he enjoys Rey’s company almost as much as he enjoys Finn’s. She’s a bit quiet, a bit suspicious, but she’s curious and adventurous and smart, and she’s always up to try new things. While Skywalker is holed up with the General on D’Qar, Poe decides to take Rey out for a little time away from her apprentice duties.

“Are you enjoying that?” Poe smiles at Rey as she digs into a steaming bowl of…whatever she ordered off the menu. Poe’s not sure what sort of cooked meat is _blue_ , though it smells good.

“Absolutely,” Rey says, wiping her mouth with her wrist. “Much better than rations.” She’s putting on a little weight, her cheeks and hips filling out. Poe wonders when the data-mags will be hounding _her_ for spreads.

“Yavin 4 didn’t have great food, either,” Poe says. “The fruit is still the best in the galaxy, though.”

Rey smiles, but when she looks up over Poe’s head at the far wall of the Takodana cantina, her cheeks redden. “Oh,” she says, putting down her spoon, “we didn’t have _that_ on Jakku.”

Poe turns in his seat and is instantly face-to-face with something he’s intimately familiar with on the holo-ad screen. “Hm,” he says with a shrug, turning back to his food, “I guess they’re advertising in restaurants, now.”

“ _Poe_ ,” hisses Rey, “everyone can see your…” She trails off with a laugh. “Why?”

“Nobody can see my cock,” Poe says casually, and Rey chokes on her food. It’s true—he’s wearing his underthings, or at least what could be considered underthings. The wrap-style wasn’t really _in_ anymore, but it made his legs look amazing where they were propped up against the control panel of a makeshift X-wing cockpit, the material sliding down to show off the muscular slope of his hips. His arm dangled off to the side where he held his helmet, and his hair was messed to perfection. Rey didn’t need to know that was partly due to a particularly eager interpreter he met on Naboo the night before he went in for the shoot. “Besides, it’s for the Resistance.” He glances back at it. “The Resistance Needs You—“

“And So Do _I_?” Rey finishes the tagline, laughing incredulously. “Poe, I may not be from around here, but I know when bodies are used as bargaining tools.” She eyes the holo-ad again, nodding slightly with approval. “I didn’t think General Organa would approve of such a thing.”

“General Organa cares little for PR,” Poe says wryly.

“Well,” Rey says, slurping the last of the liquid from her bowl, “that pretty Twi'lek girl up at the bar certainly seems interested in the Resistance right now.”

This time, Poe blushes, and takes a peek behind him. The woman is indeed looking, and she’s indeed pretty. “She’s not my type.”

“Oh, Commander Dameron has a _type_ ,” Rey says with a smile. “I’m guessing your type runs a little more…”

“Male,” Poe says with a wink. “But I’ve been known to bed all sorts of non-binary humanoids from all reaches of the galaxy.”

Rey just rolls her eyes. “You’re something else. Let’s go see a show now. I want to see a funny one!”

Poe’s glad for the change in subject.

*

“Dameron,” General Organa says as the group around the holotable clears out. “Walk with me for a bit, will you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Poe says, hurrying to her side. He wonders if she’s sending him out again for the first time after the destruction of Hosnian Prime, and if she is, he’s going to put in a request for Finn (and maybe Rey, even though she’s not a Jedi Knight yet) to join him. They really do make a good team.

“Dameron, you’re the best pilot in the Resistance, bar none,” the General says in her usual professional, clipped tone. “And that’s due to your talent and skill. I just wanted to make sure you knew that.” She raises an eyebrow like she’s expecting a response.

Poe furrows his brow. “I’m not following, ma’am.”

“I’m sure you know about how I slew the Hutt who imprisoned me when I was still nearly a girl,” she says.

“Of course,” Poe agrees, trying not to faun, even though that was one of the stories he begged his mother to tell him over and over again as a boy. “Everyone does. It’s practically a legend.”

“And I’m proud of it,” General Organa says. “But unfortunately, when you look into the photo databases about the event, you won’t find much. Many of the Tatooine files have been corrupted. But without fail, there’s one shot taken with some backwater holo-imager that will come up every time.”

Poe knows exactly what she’s talking about, and he hates that he does. “I know. I apologize, but I’ve seen it.”

“Don’t be sorry.” She smiles as she accepts accepts a message from one of her aides. “I killed my powerful captor with a chain, Dameron, and the only thing I have to show for it is a grainy image of me in some awful metal underwear. That’s not really fair, is it?”

“No, I suppose not.” He knows where this is going. He clears his throat. “Are you upset with the media, ma’am? I never meant to cause an image problem.”

“It’s not that,” she says, “and I’m not upset.” She gives him a mischievous look that makes Poe wonder what she was _really_ like when she was younger. “You’re young, and handsome, and brave. You’re making your own choices. But you don’t get to choose how the rest of the galaxy sees you.” Her aide whispers in her ear and she nods. “I have to go. But Commander, just remember—you’re here because we need you’re an excellent pilot. You don’t owe us anything else.”

Poe salutes her. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you, General Organa.” He understands her, even if he hasn’t thought of it like that before.

Then again, he won’t always be young and handsome, though he knows he’ll always be brave.


End file.
